Brain freeze

 It's the end of the workday on a Friday and I have a brain freeze. 

We have been planning tirelessly for days now, figuring out the best way to invite students into the building for in-person learning opportunities. How we can be safe, inclusive, equitable, fun, engaging, distanced...

My workday ended with a beloved and respected staff member calling an all-staff meeting, sans leadership and principals. She opened this meeting by letting the 28 or so teachers know that this was a safe space to vent. She set norms; we were safe to have cameras on or off, to speak or not to speak, to say anything negative or positive. Someone volunteered to take notes and then translate all our venting into productive language to share with our leadership team. What a gift. 

This was born from a standing Friday morning teacher "Coffee Talk" where a regular group of four-five of us show up to say hi and chit chat about this and that on Friday mornings. This morning, after these crazy three days of planning and logistics regarding going back in-person, 20+ teachers showed up, and there were feelings. A LOT of feelings. So another, more official meeting time needed to be created for us. 

To preface the real, disgruntled, scared notes I'm about to quote, I must share that my teaching team, my group of students, and the families I work with are all AWESOME. No complaints. I feel seen, heard, respected, and understood. I feel like I'm a part of a well-oiled machine, rolling with the punches and keeping things moving. The empath in me has a broken heart because my dear colleagues are not feeling this way. 

"What happens for my students who receive special education services? Who picks them up from class for pullouts? Where do they go to log in for online services?" 

This has not been addressed yet.

Our speech specialist- "I won't be able to come back in person because I see students in every grade and class. I would be a super spreader if I came in."

So every single one of us has to configure one or more of our students getting on a computer for services during our time together. 

"I thought reopening plans were done this summer; the schedule, who was going back, sibling groupings, schedules... all of it. It's March and we are starting from scratch."

They were. And now we are doing them all again. It's so fragmented.

"To be left with everything, all of this, that hadn't been done at all.... small things like how will we do arrival and dismissal... Big things like none of my black students feel safe coming back."

Woah. Big one. 

"How is leadership going to support and protect teachers and staff from parents who will push back no matter what we do?"

"There's an awful lot. There always is. But now it's just impossible."

There is a lot to pull apart here but I will leave it here like it was left with us. No matter how supportive, attentive, and caring the administration, the questions are endless. The what-ifs are bottomless. I am ending the day with a glass of wine and an aching heart. We will tackle all of this, we will prioritize the safety and health of our students and our staff... but it's exhausting. Cheers to the weekend, and a small reprieve.